


In sickness and in health

by Elenduen



Category: The Musketeers (2014), d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Musketeers, Gen, Loss of confidence, Prompt from d'Artagnan whump site, Sick Fic, Small Pox, d'Artagnan Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenduen/pseuds/Elenduen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>d'Artagnan is misdiagnosed by Aramis, only to collapse later with Small pox.</p><p>His recovery is slow, and takes all his brothers love and support to bring him back to health.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sigmund](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/gifts).



Sweat glistened upon d'Artagnan`s skin as he lay in his sick bed.

His body was completely still, save for the shaking of his limbs as the blazing fever raged through his veins, boiling his blood under the skin, leaving him delirious and dangerously sick.

Clutching tight to his rosary beads, Aramis applied a cloth dipped in cold water to d'Artagnan`s forehead, trying to bring him some relief from the raging heat that burned him up from the inside out.

Besides him, keeping a constant vigil at the beside of their beloved Gascon, were Athos and Porthos, saying prayers for the survival of the Pup they come to love, heedless of the threat of infection taking them.

On the bed d'Artagnan moaned, and cried out in disjointed French and Gascon, his words slurred and almost unintelligable as his mind drifted in a sea of fevered dreams.

In effort to save his life, they had saved his head of his thick black locks, to try and keep cool his brain from the torturous heat of the fever that flaired within him.

They had stripped his long limbed body of all clothing, and wrapped him, naked, in red velvet, an old Arabic remedy used to sweat out the sickness and save the life of the victim.

Whether or not it would be successful in this case not one of the Inseparables knew as the continued to tend their sick brother in his hour of need.

Twenty four hours ago d'Artagnan`s flesh had begun to errupt in the blister like spots of the pox, only a few at first, but they had spread upon him like a wild fire, and now covered the whole of his arms and and legs, his chest, his back, his throat, some even making their way over his face.

They would scar, how baddly Aramis did`nt know, but he knew there would be scars, with Small Pox there always were, sometimes hiddious and terrible, sometimes few an unnoticable.

Either way the scarring went Aramis did`nt care, so long as d'Artagnan survived it did`nt matter to him what appearance the Pups had.  
He woudl rather him be alive and scarred from head to foot, than dead and flawless.

Besides, more worrisome for them than the clear liquid filled pox on d'Artagnan`s skin, were the blisters inside his mouth, on his tongue, his inner lips, the foor and bottom of his mouth.

If they continued to spread, if they formed inside his throat then they would surely kill him as they closed up his airway.

Also there was the risk of d'Artagnan`s sight, and hearing, they could be stolen away by this illness as easily as his life could, he could keep his life but be reduced to a life of dependancy upon others tp find his way about in a world of darkness, or silence.

 

Aramis blamed himself for this.

While Porthos and Athos had told him over and over that he was not to blame, that this was not his doing, Aramis could not find it in his heart to forgive himself for this.

Days ago d'Artagnan had come to him complaining of a headache, sore throat, muscle pains, and loosness of the bowels.

Aramis had thought it nothing serious, had thought, since d'Artagnan had been spending many nights in the company of Athos drinking into the wee small hours, that the lack of sleep and over consumption of wine was catching up on the boy, and paying him back with an upset stomach.

Telling him to get an early night, and giving him a cup of mint tea to settle his upset belly, Aramis sent him on his way, eager to go and see his latest Mistress.

Indeed it had seemed that his diagnosis had been correct at first, that d'Artagnan had nothing more wrong with him than simple fatigue and over indulgence, and several days of decent nights sleep, and tempered intake of wine would cure his ills.

However the following afternoon things had taken a turn for the worse.

 

D'Artagnan had been sparring with Athos, had actually been getting scolded by his mentor for his clumsey moves, his slow reflexes, and seeming inattention as Athos bested him again and again without so much as breaking a sweat.

Finally having had enough, Athos had sent d'Artagnan off with a flea in his ear, and sourt out a better sparring partner to work with, but as d'Artagnan had staggered over to the well to draw himself a drink of water he had suddenly clutched at his middle and vomited on the ground, his legs going out from under him moments later as he collasped in fevered unconsciousness.

Several Musketeers had fled across the courtyard to get away from d'Artagnan with cries of "Plague!", others had held back, but not dared to go to d'Artagnan, fearing infection, and pulling handkerchieves from their pockets to press over their noses and mouths against the disease.

Aramis, Athos, and Porthos had, had no such fears, they had rushed to d'Artagnan`s side, Porthos lifted the boy from the mud, Aramis taking his wrist to feel his pulse, Athos going on ahead to get d'Artagnan`s rooms ready and shouting for hot water to be boiled, smell salts brought, and a physician summoned in all haste.

Treville`s voice, barking out orders, sending musketeers to get a physician, others to pray for d'Artagnan`s recovery, and for Serge to get water boiled and a fire lit in d'Artagnan`s room echoing behind them.

 

Laying d'Artagnan upon the bed, Aramis had hurriedly stripped the boy of his doublet, breeches, and boots, leaving him in his shirt and underwear, taking a towel from Athos to wipe the sweat from the boys brow  
"He`s burning up!" he whispered inwardly cursing himself for dismissing d'Artagnan`s symptoms earlier

"Whats wrong with him?, food poisoning?" Porthos asked his face pale with worry "It`s not The Sweat?"

"I think not" Aramis whispered peeling back d'Artagnan`s eyelids, his stomach sinking when he saw tell tale signs of petechia in the orbs beneath, "I pray God it is only a chill, Influenza, or Measles"

"If it`s not?" Athos asked, his voice hardly above a murmer, Aramis had not replied, had not needed to, for Athos already knew of what he feared, and what proved to be the case.

 

Sure enough, Doctor Lemay had attended, and examined d'Artagnan, finding, to his remorse that d'Artagnan did indeed have what Aramis had feared, Smallpox.

The killer of many, and ruination of more.

Lemay had prescribed infusions to be given to d'Artagnan every hour to try and help fight the disease, had ordered the shaving of his head to help protect his brain from the heat of the fever by bearing his skin, told them to wrap his naked body in the red velvet to try and burn the fever out, having heard of the treatment working for Queen Elizabeth I.

All this they had done, and continued to do, feeding d'Artagnan drinks of cold water when he was conscious enough to drink, though never lucid enough to know who they were, had bathed his face in cold water, wrapped his hands to prevent him scratching at the blisters on his skin, and remained by his side, hoping against hope that God would spare his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone fancy a Haunted Mpreg for Halloween?, who dos`nt love Rosemarys Baby, Blessed, Cursed, Devils Due, and all the other demon pregnancy and haunted pregnancy horror films out there?.
> 
>  
> 
> Copy paste link for the d'Artagnan Whump Site http://elenduen.dreamwidth.org/391.html

d'Artagnan lay weak and listless in bed. It had been four days since his fever had finally broken after nearly two weeks and he had regained consciousness, defeating the Small Pox that had come so close to claiming his life.

To everyones relief his eyes and brain showed no signs of having been effected by the disease, he could see aswell as he ever did, and while he was disoriented when he first awoke, he had difficulty in asking all of the questions the physician and Aramis put to him.

Now of course began the arduous task of bringing him back to health.

After weeks of illness d'Artagnan`s body was greatly weakened, the small amount of fat he had on his body had been used up, and when his body had run out of that it had started to burn muscle instead to use for energy.

This had resulted in d'Artagnan looking like a bag of bones, his face hollow and gaunt, rib cage and pelvis alarmingly visable beneath the tightly stretched skin, his arms and legs wasted to frail looking sticks.  
The first thought his brothers had was to start feeding up and fast, Porthos had gone and gotten proberly enough food to feed an army!, never mind one Gascon, taking great care to choose all of d'Artagnan`s favourites, from minted lamb shanks to pan au chocolat!. 

He`d happily presented the feast to d'Artagnan, with the others encouragement, hoping to get him building his strength as soon as possible.

However d'Artagnan had barely managed a few mouthfuls before he was retching into a pot. 

His simply refused to accept the delicious spread that he would have normally adored, the bout of sickness left him exhausted and shaking as his whole body ached in pain.

Feeling guilty, though they had only been trying to help, the Musketeers had settled him back in bed and soothed him into a sleep, hoping that with plainer fair in the morning they would have better luck.

Saddly their hopes were dashed, Serge had happily offered to cook a vast and rich breakfast for d'Artagnan, instead of the normal porridge, bread, and ham he normally served up, but, fearing a reacurrence of d'Artagnan`s sickness the night before, Aramis had urged Serge to stick with a simply offering and save his culinary delights for when d'Artagnan was a little stronger and more able to do them justice.

So armed with a bowl of fresh porridge, sweetened with honey, and a plate of ham and fresh warm bread straight from the ovens, Aramis had brought breakfast up to d'Artagnan`s room, where Athos and Porthos had been helping him wash and were applying the salve that Lemay had prescribed to help heal the remaining blisters upon d'Artagnan`s skin.

To help keep them from scarring to much, he advised that they be kept smooth and wer`nt burst or scratched at, and to prevent d'Artagnan from doing so involuntarily he had clipped the Musketeers nails far back on his fingers so they would be too blunt to cause any damage.

No matter what there was going to be some scarring, that could not be prevented, but with care and treatment they could hopefully avoid anything too severe.

Most likly feeling to tired still to argue or make a fuss with anyone, d'Artagnan had happily complied to attempting to eat his breakfast, only to be bringing it back up moments later.

This had set a depressing pattern that was both frustrating and worrying the Musketeers no end.

d'Artagnan desperately needed to regain his strength, but his body was refusing to let him consume the much needed nutrician in order to do so, all he was managing to keep down was a slice or two of dry bread, and a small bowl of very weak chicken broth.

 

"If it carrys on like this he`ll starve!" Aramis sighed running a hand through his hair in exasperation, "We`ve got to get more food into him or he`ll fade away into nothing!"

"Then what do you suggest?" Athos grunted, his temper short from having to hold a pot under d'Artagnan and rub his brothers back while he`d spent ten minutes throwing up again after trying to eat a little beef stew

"I don`t know!" Aramis exclaimed slapping his hands on the table in frustration "But we have to do something!"

"What about gettin` `im outside a bit?" Porthos offered "Maybe some fresh air `n sunshine `ll do `im good?", Aramis tilted his head to the side considering this, while Athos gave Porthos a mirthless smile 

"The Ladies of the court would disagree with that statement" he dead panned, it was fashon for one to be as pale as possible, tanned skin was simply unbecoming, a sign of the lower classes who had to work in the harsh sun light instead of keeping to the shade and shielding ones face from the sun, lest it brown and become freckled.

"It`s worth a shot" Aramis agreed "Being cooped up is`nt healthy, especially for a farm boy!" 

"What about him catching a chill?" Athos questioned with a concerned frown "The state he`s in he could`nt fight one off right now", Aramis shook his head with a smile

"We`ll wrap him up well, and make sure he`s sat in the sun, he`ll be fine", Athos tipped his head in acknowledgement, apparently happy to go along with the plan.

 

Convincing d'Artagnan to go outside however was another matter.

While he normally hated being trapped indoors, d'Artagnan could not face stepping outside his bedroom.

He had caught sight of himself in the small mirror while he`d been standing up to be washed, and had been horrified by his appearence.

His bald head seemed to make him look even sicker than ever, his scalp covered in shaving rash and pox marks, his face bearing several marks, and the rest of his body was covered in them.

That combined with the large weight loss, and unhealthy pallor of his skin, he did not want anyone to see him looking like this, he wanted to stay hidden in his room until he`d healed, and looked less like a walking plague.

"It`ll do you good to get outside, you can`t stay in here forever" Athos sighed having to grit his teeth to keep from loosing his temper with d'Artagnan`s stubborness, "Porthos is going to carry you, so there`ll be no problems with you stumbling"

"Great, so now I`m a cripple aswell as hiddious!" d'Artagnan spat glaring at the blisters on his arms that seemed to be taking forever to go

"Cryin` out loud!, you ai`nt either d'Art!, you`re jus` sickly, and your friends want t`see you!, they want t`know your doin` better" Porthos cried 

"Oh yes I`m doing great!, that`s why I`m puking up everytime I eat and can`t even cross a room to use the privy!", d'Artagnan was aware of how childish he sounded, he just could`nt face being stared at and whispered about, like a wounded dog he wanted to curl up and lick his wounds in private

"Damn it d'Artagnan!" Athos snapped his temper finally lost "You were damn lucky to survive Small pox, many don`t!, and while it might take some time, you will recover, the least you can do is make some effort in bringing that about", chastened, and ashamed follwing Athos`s scolding, d'Artagnan fell silent, and allowed Porthos lift him out of bed and carry him out into the courtyard.

 

Seated in the sunlight, d'Artagnan pulled the woolen blanket he was wrapped in high about his neck, trying hide himself inside to to conceal the worst of the pox on his skin.

To his relief though, his fellow Musketeers seemed unfazed by the sight, rather than looks of pity, or revulsion, he saw looks of relief and concern on the faces of his fellow brothers in arms, relief that he was alive, and concern for his frailty.

"Good to see you up and about again" Treville said coming over to d'Artagnan, a smile on his face "It`s been too quiet without you running around!"

"Or climbing onto the baraks roof to prove a point!" Porthos laughed under his breath!

"How are you feeling now?" Treville asked, ignoring Porthos`s comment, he`d seen d'Artagnan risk his neck doing the stunt, and while he had been impressed with the monkey like climbing, he had bellowed at the Gascon for messing around instead of training! and disrupting the training of others as they`d all stopped to watch him do it!.

"I`m....getting there Sir" d'Artagnan replied feeling himself relaxing in the sun, a feeling that did`nt last as Rochefort chose that moment to show his unwanted self in the garrion, apparently needing to speak with Treville about the Royal visit to Notre Dame.

 

"Well, I heard you`d been poxed" he sneered at d'Artagnan after finishing his conversation with Treville, making the Gascon stiffen and Athos shift at his side giving the other Comte a warning glare that went unheeded

"He`s been very ill with Small Pox" Aramis replied cooly "As I`m sure you are aware Rochefort, only degenerates gets Poxed!", (The Pox, unlike Small Pox was a common term for Syphilis), 

Rochefort looked at Aramis out of the corner of his eye, dismissing him without hesitation and turning back to d'Artagnan,  
"A shame really" he said sounding far from sorrowful "Such a pretty body destroyed by illness, youth and beauty marred by Pox scars!, the Kings champion reduced to a frail withered runt!, hardly a fitting end for a promising career!"

D'Artagnan`s face paled even further, his eyes widdening in fright at the thought of not being able to return to his duties, that terrified him more than the loss of his looks, to not be able to be a Musketeer anymore?, he would rather be dead than face such a fate!

"Right, thats enough!" Porthos growled getting into Rochefort`s face "You can leave now under your own steam, Or we`ll call for your guards to come carry your mangled corpse out of here after we`re done!"

Rochefort smirked obnoxiously, looking beyond Porthos to d'Artagnan who looked on the verge of tears, "I`ll leave you to play nurse maid to the weak and sickly!" he said "I`m sure it`s a fine use of your time as Musketeers, to be pandering to the hopeless!", with a last smirk in d'Artagnan`s direction he sauntered away leaving the Musketeers to try and reasure and comfort d'Artagnan in his wake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can someone explain to me what the celebration of Thanks Giving is about?, I'm a Brit and we don't have that celebration in this country.

"I believe that half the problem with young d'Artagnan`s eating resides in his mind rather than his body" Lemay said to the three anxious Musketeers who had sought out his advice on how to help d'Artagnan recover from Small Pox.

So far he was still struggling to hold down more than a slice of bread and thin broth a day, a diet that was not going to help him regain his strength and muscle mass, both of which he desperately needed to regain if he was to continue being a Musketeer.

Rochefort`s visit to the garrison had not helped matters, since his remarks d'Artagnan had introverted even more, on the brief periods he was coaxed out of his room he remained huddled in his cloak, self hugging with his head down. 

Like a frightened animal his eyes would shift warily about as if he were looking for danger.

The change in d'Artagnan, going from an independant robust young man to a shadow of his former self was heart breaking to his friends.

 

They were trying everything the could think of to rebuild his confidence, trying to urge him out of the garrison for a short ride on his horse, taking him into the fields for a very brief and gentle fencing match.

While he had not lost his form with a blade, he had not the strength in his body to wield it well and could keep up with Athos even when the Man was going at half speed.

In desperation for help in healing d'Artagnan, the Inseparables had gone to Lemay hoping he had an idea on how to help him recover.

 

 

"What d`you mean in his mind?" Aramis asked with a frown as Porthos scoffed at the notion, Lemay sighed and leaned forward on his desk clasping his hands together as if in prayer

"It is a fairly new idea that is starting to be taken seriously in the Universitys across Europe" he explained, "That the Mind can have an adverse effect on the body when the Mind is in termoil"

Athos shook his head, looking to Aramis who shrugged not knowing any more himself,   
"How is that possible?" he asked in confusion 

"I honesty no one is entirely sure" Lemay replied his gentle face creasing with sympathy for the men confusion and worry over their young friend, "We do know that the Brain is the organ that controlls the entire body, from the beating of the heart to the digestion of food and the elimination of waste, everything we are and do comes from our Minds, therefore it stands to reason that when the organ is distressed it can have an effect on other areas of the body"

"So because d'Artagnan is distressed having been through so much his mental disquiet is making him unable to eat" Aramis slowly said working it out in his head as he spoke "His fears, upsets, and general melancholy are making his stomach upset causing him to be sick"

"Quiet so" Lemay concurred leaning back in his chair "I`m afraid that there is no "Cure" as it were, simply time and patience will win the battle"

"D'Art ai'nt exactly a patient Man" Porthos grunted which was the under statment of the century!, "He's frustrated by the fact that he's bein' sick all the damn time, that he is'nt regaining his strength"

"Then you need to help him with his frustration" Lemay advised "Ignore his temper which I am sure is flaring from time to time, encourage him to take his mind of his problems, going for walks, reading, perhaps some time riding", Athos shook his head sighing deeply

"We're doing all that and it's not working, he's getting no better than he has been since he first awoke weeks ago".

 

Lemay twisted his lips leaning back on his chair and tapping the table with his finger tips his sharp mind trying to think of a solution for the problem   
"I have heard that the Waters of Bath in England can be greatyly restorative to ones health" he said "Many go there to seek relief from gout, palsy, consumtion, even cancer, and there has been some evidence of the waters helping"

"Bath?" Athos repeated narrowing his eyes thoughfully "Such a journey would not be cheap, and d'Artagnan speaks not one word of English"

"Not those that ai'nt a profanity!" Porthos chuckled 

"If we ask Treville he might be able to find the funds to get d'Art to Bath" Aramis suggested already considering taking a chance and seeking out the Queen and asking for her intervention in this, Anne was fond of them all after their efforts in protecting her and he doubted that she would refuse to help d'Artagnan in his hour of need

"I would recomend this" Lemay said "For d'Artagnan's health both physical and mental that he takes a leave of absence from the Musketeers and goes to Bath"

"Thank you Doctor Lemay" Athos said rising from his stool and extending his hand which Lemay shook "We shall see to it at once".

 

 

Treville whole heartedly approved the plan to send d'Artagnan for a constitutional in Bath, however he could not provide all the funding himself, and with Louis being in Rochefort's pocket, he agreed with Aramis's decision to approach Queen Anne for aid in this.

Athos's scowl at the mention of the Queen by Aramis went unnoticed by everyone, and the four of them went to the Louvre to seek out the good Queen, finding her in the Nursery with the Dauphin and Madame Bonacieux.

"What can I do for you Captain?" Anne asked smiling down on her Son as he gurgled in her arms, his plump little hands waving in the air with fingers flexing

"It's about d'Artagnan Your Majesty" Treville said with just a slight smile on his face at the sight of mother and son 

"We heard he had recovered from his sickness" Constance said with some alarm on her face

"He has recovered from Small Pox, but not from the after effects" Aramis explained hardly able to keep his eyes off Anne and the baby, "The fever leeched much of his strength which he is struggling to regain, he can not eat without being sick, and he had scarcely enough strength to get up from bed for a ten minute walk", Constance gave a slight gasp at this, her hand coming to cover her mouth at the thought of d'Artagnan being so weakend, Anne also looked shocked at the thought of the young Musketeer so sickly 

"Doctor Lemay has recomended that d'Artagnan take a leave of absence from the Musketeers until his health is recovered" Treville said to the Queen who nodded her agreement at once

"Of course, the poor boy needs time to heal from this dreadful illness"

"More than that" Treville added looking a little uncomfortable "The good Doctor has suggested that d'Artagnan go to Bath in England and take the waters to help his recovery"

"An excelent idea, he should go at once and stay until his health his restored"

"There is a difficulty though" Aramis said deciding to be the one who would broach the subject of finance with the Queen, "D'Artagnan lost all he owned to Lebarge when the monster burned down his family farm, he has only a few coins and pairs of clothes to his name, he could never afford passage to England along with a lengthy stay in the country"

None of the men really felt comfortable asking the Queen for money, but they had little choice if they were help d'Artagnan and under such circumstances they could swallow their pride and do so.

Anne understood what the men were saying, that they were in need of her aid in finding the funds to send d'Artagnan to Bath, and who had more funds than the King and Queen of France?,   
"Of course" she said with a gracious smile "I shall have sufficiant funds delivered to the garrison this afternoon, not only to send d'Artagnan to Bath, but also for one fo you to acompany him since I doubt he wis fit to make the journey alone"

"Thank you Majesty!" Aramis gasped a huge smile of immense gratitude spread over his face "You are truly the Queen of Heavon", Anne laughed a light hearted sweet laugh and nodded her head

"A little blasphemous but I treasure the compliment Aramis".

 

 

Three Months later

 

It was a much brighter and healthier looking d'Artagnan who rode back into the garrison with Athos at his side.

The constitutional had done him the world of good in Bath, the peace and quiet, being away from the France and all worries had eased his mind allowing his body the rest it needed to heal.

Athos had been the one to acompany him to England, being able to speak passable English owing to his education as the Comte de la Fere he had been the best choice and had happily spent three months with d'Artagnan in England, well, he'd kept the Gascon amused with his ascerbic remarks and sarcastic comments about the English, their food, language, and country in general.

d'Artagnan laughed happily as Porthos lifted him off his horse and spun him round in a hug while Aramis greeted Athos

"Welcome home!, we've missed you both"

"We've missed you too" d'Artagnan said beaming brightly, he looked far better than when he had left for Bath, his hair was growing back well, and his face was cleared of the pox marks with only a couple of small scars on his forehead and right by his left ear which could easily be covered by his hair once it grew long enough.

He had several other scars from the pox over his torso, back, arms, and legs, but on the whole had escaped relatively unscathed from the small pox. 

He had gained weight in Bath, his bones now covered with a healthy layer of flesh, his warm earthy colour back in his cheeks rather than the pale grey he had been wearing since he fell ill.

"I can never thank you all enough for how much you've done for me" d'Artagnan said taking all his brothers hands and squeezing them "I am eternally in your debt"

"Ah you're never in our debt lad" Porthos said pulling d'Artagnan in for another hug while Aramis ruffled his hair "You're our little Brother, and we all do anything and everything for our brothers", 

Smiling brightly d'Artagnan let his big brothers lead him to their normal table sitting down with Athos at his side happy to be back in his home with the men who were more his family than those of blood kin could ever be, laughing and grinning as he and Athos began to recount their tales of their time in England, feeling content to be back home and whole again.


End file.
